And Then With Insanity
by purrpickle
Summary: Due to alcohol and repressed feelings, Rachel ends up in bed with Sam and Santana after her party in BIotA. This starts an explosive three-way relationship that forces all three to realize what it is they really want. Samchelpez with Pezberry endgame.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: **I do not own Glee nor the characters within. Well, this is a new thing for me. I've written Rachel/Santana/Brittany, but I've never written Rachel/Santana/_Sam _(i.e. female/female/female vs. female/female/male) before. But I got inspired by one of my 100 words drabbles (which I've included here, and was requested by SammmLG, to give credit), and this is the result. Yes, I am planning this to be an ongoing story, and I've already figured out the plot. Go me!

Even though this story will endgame with Pezberry, it also will contain Samtana, Samchel, probably some degree of Brittana, Finchel, Fuinn and Fabrevans, and of course Samchelpez as well. So het and femslash and threesome warnings. If anything else comes up, I'll make note of it.

Also, M for a _reason_. Same het and femslash and threesome warnings apply. Hope you enjoy~

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><p>Rachel was drunk for the first time. It was bubbly and fun even if she was hearing things.<p>

Finishing the song, Rachel dropped the microphone and weaved over. "San-Santana?" she mumbled, completely ignoring Sam by shoving herself between him and Santana.

"¿Enana?" Santana eyed her, laughing at Sam's affronted grunt.

Confused further by the Spanish, Rachel stared at her, then leaned forward. "Santana," she repeated slowly, "You… _Want_ me…?"

Santana's unfocused eyes darted to Rachel's lips.

"Wow, how drunk _are _you, Rachel?" Sam snickered, only to whimper when Rachel and Santana suddenly started furiously making out on top of him.

* * *

><p>Sam was a very hard mattress. He was warm and strong and smelled pretty good, but there was something about the girl using <em>her <em>as a mattress that felt a bit better. She was softer, warm as well, and at least her shampoo smelled amazing. Though it should have freaked Rachel out that Santana was draped over her, it didn't so much when a horrible, pounding headache reminded her what had happened the night before.

Of course, with memory of drinking came memory of what _happened _during drinking. Or, rather, what happened after Santana's mouth attached to hers, her upper chest pressing against her so heavily that Rachel fell back, arching and grinding into both the girl on top of her and the boy trapped under her. After about a minute of losing herself in Santana's plump lips and wet tongue, her body pushing down onto her, and the smell and taste of her, Sam's hands suddenly came up to move what he could of Rachel's hair to the side.

She became aware of Sam's hot breath on the back of her neck, but she didn't have time to figure out what she should do because Santana had just sucked her tongue into her mouth at the same time Sam's cute lips brushed across her skin. His hands then slid down her arms, dropping down to grip her hips.

"I'm not quite sure what's going on," Sam muttered, moving one of his hands ostensibly up to his girlfriend's waist, "But it's hot." He accented the comment with a nibble to where her neck met her shoulder.

Gasping, Rachel could feel her muzzy brain trying to catch up to everything going on. All she really knew was that Santana was an amazing kisser and Rachel wanted her body closer, and that Sam, who had spread his legs so Rachel could settle closer against him, Santana almost straddling Rachel _and _him, a hand flung back to tangle in the hair at the nape of her boyfriend's neck as he continued nibbling and sucking his way up Rachel's neck, towards her jaw, was doing amazing things to her libido as well.

Rachel was sandwiched between two of the hottest people she knew, both of their lips vying for her attention, and though part of her knew it was insane and ill-advised and she was drunk and they were on the couch where everyone could see them, she'd also never been as so turned on as she was. It may have been the alcohol and the memory of Finn's hurtful comments from earlier, but what was happening was really, really, _really _exciting.

And then Sam's hand moved up to tug her head sideways, breaking her kiss with Santana only to cover her lips with his own a second later, Santana dipping down to nip at the tightened tendon of her neck. A loud whimper escaped from her throat, Sam's tongue dipping into her mouth. Giving a low, smoky chuckle, Santana tensed her legs on either side of Rachel's thighs, slid one hand down to press tightly against Rachel's abs, and managed to whisper huskily into her ear. "Look at you, Berry. Trouty Mouth and me… Guess you're not so _straight_," she rolled her hips forward, making Rachel's stomach tremble, curling her tongue around her earlobe, "Laced after all, huh?"

Sam nibbled on Rachel's lower lip and his arm pulled her closer into his body; she could feel his other arm brushing past her as he wrapped it around Santana as well. The heat building up between the three of them was starting to make her pant, her thighs squirming as she started getting more and more aroused.

She must be very, _very _drunk.

It was _great_.

Moving one hand to clutch at Sam's arm wrapped around her waist, fingers tingling at the muscles she could feel shifting under his skin, she curled her other arm around Santana's shoulders.

Her mind still barely to catch up with everything happening, she managed to whisper through kiss-swollen lips when Santana moved up to tug Sam away from her and kiss him deeply, "I just want you guys to know that your faces both taste awesome, too." Both of their bodies vibrated against her in laughter, and they broke apart to smirk at her.

Looking back and forth into Santana and Sam's lust-darkened eyes, Rachel licked her lips, yelled a mental, 'Screw it! This needs to happen someday for my memoir, right? …God, they both taste so _awesome_,' and closed her eyes. Puckering her lips, waiting for whomever it would be to kiss her again, the next thing she knew was that she was giggling madly with Sam attached to her back as they tried to walk up the stairs like that, Santana being mean and not helping by laughing uproariously at the top (and maybe there was Finn and Quinn yelling before that? Rachel couldn't [didn't] want to remember for sure). Then, the three of them were stumbling into Rachel's bedroom, Santana pushing her up against the door as it closed behind them, kissing her deeply and body flushed solidly against hers. After that, Rachel was propped against her headboard, dressed in her bra and underwear, arms wrapped solidly around a similarly (un)dressed Santana, the both of them laughing as Sam almost tripped while stripping off his shirt and jeans, leaving him in only his briefs. Eyes dilating at the amazing sight of his bare chest, he had barely crawled onto the bed when Rachel jumped forward and pushed him onto his back, settling her knees on either side of his hips, propped above him and not able to decide what she wanted to do first: feel with her hands or tongue. Santana suddenly draped across her back, a hand sliding down Rachel's arm to wrap around hers.

"C'mon, Berry," she hissed hotly into her ear, dragging her bra-encased breasts up and down against Rachel's back, "Don't just _look _at him." Pushing their joined hands forward, Rachel whimpered when not only did Sam's muscles jump under her palm, but Santana's other hand teasingly started tracing the waistband of her boy shorts. "Fuuuuck," Sam moaned, staring at the two girls in front of him with a hungry look on his face, "Damn, never thought I'd be seeing or doing this."

"With me?" Rachel inquired in a high voice, shivering at the combined feelings of Sam and Santana against her skin. She felt a sudden spike of insecurity well up.

"No," Santana placed sloppy kisses around her jaw, letting Rachel pull her hand out from under hers as she leaned forward to reach more of Sam, "I think the choir boy means _ever_. Besides." She let her now free hand join her other one in fingering Rachel's waistband, cupping her hipbones, "You're fuckin' hot when you're out of that _hideous _nightgown."

Using his elbow to sit up, Sam scooted forward to push himself against Rachel's chest, and she gasped at the sensation. "Rachel," he looked at her directly, "This is not just because of the alcohol, I swear."

Rachel blinked, nodding slightly. She was too aware of how near to nakedness they all were, and her heart was pounding and even if she felt insecure, she didn't want it to end. Not yet. So she leaned forward and crashed her lips against Sam's, sliding her arms around his neck.

"Fuck yeah," Santana moaned, "This should _not _be turning me on as much as it is."

Sucking one of Sam's amazingly soft lips into her mouth, Rachel removed one of her arms to reach blindly back. Even with three people, she thought it awfully unfair to leave someone out. Managing to tangle her fingers into Santana's hair, she tensed her thighs to roll her hips backwards and forwards. Grinding her ass into Santana's pelvis, making the other girl's fingernails bite into her skin, on every upstroke she pushed and dragged her breasts against Sam's chest. The temperature in the room grew, and Rachel felt hotter and hotter.

It wasn't long until all three teenagers were moaning shamelessly and falling into an adapted dry humping train, beading sweat making it easier. Rachel steadily became aware of Sam's erection brushing against her, and she whimpered, twisting as Santana's fingers started slipping lower and lower under her underwear as she rocked against her ass.

Though drunk, she wasn't sure if she was ready for where things were going. But it felt so _good_ that she was starting to tremble with the effort of continuing her swinging. Catching her faltering, Sam dropped his hands to Rachel's waist, pulling her down and into him. He pressed against her solidly, and she could feel his throbbing through their underwear. Pushing her stomach against Sam's fingers, Santana kept her own against Sam's abs as she continued drawing circles along Rachel's skin. "Relax," Sam grunted, his muscles tightening with the effort of keeping himself upright with his legs stretched out in front of him.

Gasping and moaning and nodding, Rachel had to bring her arm down from Santana to brace herself against Sam's sternum. The fabric of her underwear was bunching and stretching and she was so wet it was obscene, Sam managing to rub all the right places with each stroke. Santana's hair fell down around her neck and shoulders, smelling amazing and tickling her, her breath hot and moist against the side of her neck, and Rachel keened when the other girl started chewing on her, equal parts panting and sucking and nibbling. Dimly she knew she was going to have a nasty hickey, but did she care? _No_.

Dropping his chin onto Rachel's shoulder and breathing heavily, muscles starting to twitch as he started muttering "Shit shit shit shit fucking god, Rachel, ah crap, I'm…"

Riding him furiously, able to feel it through his whole body as he got closer and closer to coming, Rachel felt her own orgasm building, everything rushing into a point between Sam's cock and Santana's fingers that were now almost completely under her underwear and just above where Rachel suddenly needed her the most.

Slamming her eyes shut and sucking in as much air as she could, Rachel forced out, "San-Santana."

Santana's body was starting to vibrate as she desperately bucked into Rachel's backside. "Ye-ah?" she swallowed thickly, sitting back a little to cant her hips up into a better angle and groaning so sexily it made Rachel pulse even harder.

Sam gripped Rachel even tighter, pulling her up and down against him as strongly as he could. She couldn't hold back her moans any longer, and she started shaking with all of the energy swirling around them. "Are… Are you clo – ? Oh goodness, oh, I – ah, _Sam_, yes, _yes_, Santana _touch_ _me_!"

And the exact moment right before Sam let out a loud, guttural moan, crushing both Rachel and Santana's fingers against him, Santana had slid her hand down to roll around her clit, and Rachel screamed, coming and pulsing and clenching and bucking, arching her back so she could feel Santana's heaving breasts. As Sam throbbed and jumped under her, hands heavy on her waist, Rachel forced herself to move her hand back, weak from the waves of pleasure still moving through her. Santana's skin slick with sweat, Rachel tried to move downwards along her stomach. Jerking as she slipped lower, Santana thrust herself forward, her free hand crushing Rachel's as she ended up pushing her under her underwear. "Fuck, Berry," Santana slammed her forehead into Rachel's shoulder as, even with her awkward angle, Rachel managed to slide through Santana's copious arousal, biting her lip and moaning at how hot and wet and swollen she felt. Curling her fingers, she rubbed up and down, concentrating on the general area of her clit, and before long Santana was shuddering, releasing into her hand as her other hand tensed against Rachel, causing a small aftershock to rush through her.

Panting heavily, all three teens slumped together. Her heart pounding and feeling like she was overheating, Rachel let both Sam and Santana use her to lean against. In a way, they were both keeping her upright, which was good because she was _extra _weak.

Eventually, Sam groaned. "I need to lie down," he murmured, breath hot against Rachel's skin.

"I… Wouldn't mind lying down as well," Rachel nodded, idly petting Sam's hair.

Santana sat up. Taking Rachel's hand out of her underwear, as well as her own out of Rachel's, they both shivered as they slid along each other again. Santana then pulled her leg up and rolled sideways to splay out on her back. "That…" she sighed huskily, voice deep and sated, cracking an eye open to meet Rachel's gaze, "Was fuckin' _amazing_."

All Rachel wanted to do was sleep. Squeezing Sam's shoulder, she pulled her own leg from around him and slumped down next to Santana. The muscles in her legs and abs objected, but she felt too warm and happy to really care. "I agree," she yawned, moving onto her back, her shoulder pressing against Santana's as one of her legs was thrown over Sam's. She normally would have more to say, but her mind and body felt too _happy_.

Sam dropped back, just barely missing hitting Rachel's shoulder. "Oh, sorry," he mumbled, reaching out a hand to pat Rachel's thigh.

"It's fine," Rachel's eyelashes fluttered shut, "I know… You didn't mean it."

"Cool."

Rachel was almost asleep when a rather coherent thought made her force herself to sit up.

"What are you doing?" Santana muttered, rolling onto her side but keeping her eyes closed.

"You guys are boyfriend and girlfriend, so I just thought you would like to be alone. Or, at the very least, lie together."

Santana opened an eye and reached up to yank her down. "For fuck's sake, Berry, just go to sleep."

"But – "

"Nope," Sam interrupted, rolling onto his side so he faced Rachel as well, "We're not kicking you out of your own bed. …This _is _your own bed, right?"

"Then let me at least move to one side so – "

Santana groaned in annoyance, then propped herself up on her elbow and leant over to kiss her silent. Instantly returning the kiss, Rachel wrapped her arms around Santana to pull her on top of her. There was just _something_ about Santana being on top of her that Rachel found she _loved_.

The bed shifted under her as Sam scooted closer. "Uhm… If you guys continue doing that, we're either going to have to do it again or I'm going to have to disappear into the bathroom. And," he shook his head, raising his eyebrows at them, "I _really _don't want to have to do that."

Pulling away slightly, Santana smirked down at Rachel and rolled their pelvises together. "What do you say?" she lowered her voice, using a hand to trail down Rachel's neck and over her chest, fingertips dancing, "Still got some mack in your surprisingly fuckin' hot body?"

Rachel licked her lips and whimpered, nodding. "I," she coughed, arching into Santana's hand and meeting Sam's darkening gaze, "I believe I do."

"Then," Santana's smirk widened, and she shifted so she was draped over Rachel's side, "Get _over _here, Bieber."

Sam grinned widely, managing to look boyish and devastatingly sexy at the same time, "Don't have to ask twice."

And for the third time that night, Rachel found herself as an unlikely (but very, _very _eager) addition to the relationship the glee club had dubbed Samtana. Situating herself on Santana while Sam held his girlfriend from behind, Rachel smiled hungrily at them and moved forward to start running her tongue closer and closer to the cups of Santana's silk bra. Hearing the girl's whimper and feeling her pleasure, Rachel was sure she was definitely wanted.

However, the part of her that was sobering before Santana made a run downstairs for more alcohol, coming back with news that everyone else had already left and shoving more wine coolers at her, some part of Rachel wondered if she would still be wanted in the morning.

But then the wonderful taste of pink spread through her system, her sex drive jumped up again, Sam's cute lips were soft and talented and his abs went on for _miles_, Santana's tongue was a dangerous weapon and her body was sexy _perfection_…

And Rachel stopped caring about anything else except her body, Sam's body, and Santana's body all moving together. That was much more fun.

Much, _much_ more fun.


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: **I had an awful bout of writer's block on this for the longest time. The kind where you know what you want to write, but you just. Can't. Write it.

The good news: I obviously figured out how to deal with it.

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><p>Rachel's head was pounding, her bladder was screaming, and her stomach was a second away from up heaving into itself. It felt like Santana was drooling on her shoulder, but Rachel couldn't do anything about it because her arm was stuck under her, and her other one was… Oh holy Barbra – her other arm was twined rather intimately with Sam's, right above something she really had no business being right above of.<p>

Her mind flashed to last night again, and she moaned in mortification and embarrassment and what she told herself was _not _new arousal. Last night had been a mistake, and if she could get through the rest of the morning and day without Santana killing her, she'd count herself lucky.

Really, Rachel was a _good_ girl.

That desperate thought still in her mind when Santana groaned and shifted on top of her, Rachel couldn't help herself from squeaking. That seemed to wake Sam up, because when Santana froze, Sam's body tensed up as well, and, taking that split second of opportunity, Rachel quickly wormed her way out from in between the two teenagers, dropped to the floor, and staggered as quickly as she could to the bathroom.

Locking the door behind her, her tears started to flow.

What… What had she _done_? Yes, what she remembered from the night before never went so far as to actual penetration, but hands had gone where hands had shouldn't, and at one point Rachel remembered getting her mouth on Santana's… Santana's…

The mixture of shame and pained awareness made her throw up into the toilet instead of what she had originally gone in for. Cold sweat beaded on her forehead as her body expelled most of the alcohol she'd imbibed, and at least concentrating on that (no matter how disgusting it was) meant she didn't have to think of how she had practically had sex numerous times with two people last night that were _not _Finn.

Thank god the memory of what happened with Quinn and her own iron-clad morals, though perhaps bent some, had kept her for the most part responsible.

…As responsible as dry humping and sexing with two people was.

The urge to vomit subsiding, Rachel lifted a weak hand to flush the toilet and sat back to slump against the wall. Great. Common sense told her that throwing up and crying were only going to dehydrate her more, but she just felt so _ashamed_.

Sometime later, after forcing herself to find the bottle of extra-strength ibuprofen and swallowing two after swishing with mouthwash until she couldn't feel her tongue through the burning sensation, a too-loud knock sounded on the bathroom door, followed by Sam's low voice. "Uhm… Rachel… I found some Gatorade that you should probably drink."

Shutting her eyes, leaning her weight on the counter, Rachel turned to face the door. "…Thank you," she offered just as low.

"You're welcome. I'll just… Leave it outside the door."

Rachel waited a good two minutes before she opened the door. Heart pounding, she was relieved when only her bedroom and messy bed met her. Checking to see if the door to the bedroom was closed, she all but sprinted over to it to lock it. That done, she turned back to the bathroom door. Just as he'd promised, there was a bottle of orange Gatorade waiting for her.

Tears pricking again, Rachel picked up the bottle, sat down on the chair in front of her desk, and twisted the cap off.

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><p>After a shower and the Gatorade, Rachel felt – well, while still hung over – alive enough that she knew she should go downstairs and resume her hostess duties. From the window, she'd seen that Sam's car was still outside her house, and knowing he had been Santana's ride, it was a good possibility that Santana would still be there as well. She'd already left them alone too long. No matter the circumstances, her upbringing demanded she put in an appearance soon.<p>

Trying to steel herself, she made her way downstairs.

Santana was in the kitchen, staring at the refrigerator door in the area of a picture of a smiling eight year old Rachel with her dads being held up with two yellow daisy magnets. Though Rachel couldn't be sure, it looked like Santana was staring at that. In Santana's hands was a seemingly forgotten carton of milk; Rachel hoped that hadn't been out too long.

Pushing down the spike of terror and… Something else she didn't want to think about, Rachel cleared her throat, putting on what she hoped was a neutral expression. She would not give in to the knowledge that she'd… Gotten to _know_ Santana.

Santana jerked around in her direction. Her eyebrows instantly slamming down, her skin paled, her back straightened, and her nostrils flared. Tightening, her lips pinched.

They stared at each other. Heart pounding, Rachel unconsciously licked her lips in her nervousness, and she could swear Santana's gaze drifted down to watch her do so. Heat bloomed in her stomach, a blush threatening her cheeks.

Santana finally spoke. "Hobbit," she stated flatly.

Wincing, Rachel slowly relaxed her muscles and stance. "Santana," she answered gingerly, "Good morning."

"Sure." Santana snorted softly. Letting out a harsh breath of air, she pushed slightly curling hair behind her ear, looking away. Shifting on her feet, she started to cross her arms before she remembered the carton of milk, and distractedly deposited it onto the nearest counter. "I don't know what _you _constitute as a good morning, because I, at least, have a screaming headache and a sickening feeling like I've touched something that I'll never be able to wash off." She succeeded in crossing her arms, pinning Rachel with dark eyes. "It's _not_ a good morning. And frankly, I have no idea why I'm still here."

Rachel forced herself not to change expression, instead, focusing on silently agreeing with Santana's last comment. Even if Sam wouldn't have driven her home, there were other ways Santana could have accomplished her escape. "Well," she clipped, assaying Santana neutrally, "Perhaps you are hungry? If you don't mind waiting a bit, I can whip up a tasty vegan breakfast. Is… Is Sam somewhere around here?"

Santana rolled her eyes violently. "Trouty Mouth's somewhere around here, swallowing babies' heads or something."

"You don't know where he is?" Rachel asked before she could stop it.

"And that's a problem, why? We're not fuckin' joined at the hip." Snapping at her, Santana scowled, turning on her heel and picking up the milk carton again.

Rachel decided a tactical retreat was in order. Slipping out of the kitchen, she took the corner that led to the front of the house and the living room and the entrance to the basement. Telling herself her fast heartbeat was only in response to the general stress of everything, she still took a deep breath before she slipped her head into the living room and again before she walked down into the basement.

Sam looked up. Pausing from where he was crumpling a plastic cup in his hands on the edge of the stage, his eyes widened, and he stood up, shoving both his hands and the cup into the pockets of his jacket before realizing and easing the cup out. Leaning down to awkwardly drop it onto the stage, he straightened. "Hey," he nodded.

Rachel swallowed, a smile skittering on her face. Again, her face heated up, and she shifted, aware that she knew more of Sam's body than she should. Dipping her head, she could barely meet his eyes. "Good morning."

Sam nodded again. "So…"

"Oh!" Rachel shook herself. "Uhm, thank you for the Gatorade. It helped."

"That's good." Sam shrugged self deprecatingly, "Figured it was the thing to do, seeing as Santana and I practically stole them."

"In the pantry?"

"Yeah. Behind the macaroni."

"So that's where Daddy hid them." Rachel shyly pushed hair behind her ear; if it was this awkward around Sam and Santana when she was alone with them, how would it be when she was alone with _both _of them? But she liked to think she wasn't a coward. "So… Are you hungry?"

Sam's eyebrows rose, but he nodded. "Mmm, yeah. Sorta."

"Great! Then I'll make breakfast." Whirling around, Rachel started chattering nervously, speaking over her shoulder, "Do you like vegan bacon?"

"Honestly, it doesn't sound appetizing."

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><p>"I am not eating this shit."<p>

Rachel didn't let the smile slip off her face. "If you just try it, Santana, I'm sure you'll find it isn't as bad as you seem to think it's going to be."

"You sure?" Sam chimed in, looking askance at the piece of vegan bacon he was lifting with his fork, "I mean, I'm not ungrateful for you making breakfast, but this… Looks weird."

Sighing, Rachel shook her head. "Okay, I'll admit I thought it looked weird when I first tried it, but I can _assure _you it's quite good."

"Quite good," Santana mocked. Picking up her glass of milk, she took a deep sip, glaring at Rachel as she swallowed. "I wouldn't put it past you to try and poison us."

_Poison_? "Why would I _poison _you, Santana?"

"Alls I'm saying is that I wouldn't put it past you."

There was a slight crunch, and an odd expression crossed Sam's face. "Hey," he chewed and swallowed, "San, she's right. It's actually not horrible."

"Thank you," Rachel beamed, managing to shoot him a small smile. He slightly smiled back, and Rachel blushed. Tearing her gaze away, she flushed when she met the burning dark eyes of his girlfriend.

When the doorbell rang, she jumped up. "Excuse me," she offered politely, then all but ran out of the dining room. If it had been awkward before, it was now oppressively so. If she knew the person at the door, they had just earned themselves a plate of gratitude cookies.

"Hey! Dwarf!"

Rachel winced, slowing down. Her heart started hammering. Why oh why had Santana followed her? "Santana," she didn't look directly at her, "I am on my way to the door – "

Strong hands suddenly pushed against her shoulders, Santana crowding her against the wall of the hallway. "No, see, this is important."

"Important?" Rachel squeaked. Her breath catching in her throat, she sagged for a second before getting her feet back under her, making Santana take a half-step back.

Narrowing her eyes in reaction, Santana lowered her voice. "Yes, _Rachel_. There's something you're not getting."

"And that is?"

"_Sam_."

Rachel blinked. So close to Santana again… Painful awareness prickled up through her body, and if it wasn't her imagination, Santana had stopped breathing. Starting to feel panic, dread rose in her chest.

"He's _my _boyfriend, Man Hands. Not yours." Santana breathed in deeply, her expression severe, "No matter what happened last night – " She paused, staring down at Rachel. Her expression was inscrutable, and suddenly something in her eyes flickered. "Last night."

Rachel swallowed. _Last night_. No, she had hoped they would have just ignored it for a while longer. Closing her eyes momentarily, she opened them again when Santana shifted.

_Oh_.

The doorbell rang again, ringing again a couple of seconds later. Her eyes snapping over toward the door, Rachel didn't get a chance to react; after a harsh, muttered, "_Dammit_, this is all _your _fault," Santana roughly cupped Rachel's head, tilted her chin up, glared angrily at her… And then jerked away, stalking back towards the kitchen.

Her skin burning from the feel of Santana's fingers and breath washing over her, Rachel stared helplessly at her retreating back. "Santana…?" she breathed, raising a hand to ghost her fingers over her lips.

Santana… Had almost… _Kissed_ her?

When the doorbell rang again, she managed to pull herself together enough to walk the last couple of steps and swing the door open. Finding Quinn waiting on the other side, looking positively unimpressed, Rachel's heart dropped to the pit of her stomach. "Quinn. Hello."

Emotionless hazel eyes studied her. "Hello, Rachel."


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: **I wrote this chapter in a solid four, almost five hour sitting. It is now six minutes to five in the morning. That's my dedication, peeps. ;}

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><p>Taking a hurried look behind her, Rachel swallowed and smoothly darted outside, closing the front door behind her. "Hi, Quinn," she gave the blonde a large, placating smile, "Here's the thing. Right now's not a really good time to talk."<p>

Quinn gave her a suspicious look. "Not a good time?" she asked, tilting her head to the side. She didn't seem like she would be giving Rachel any quarter. Still, Rachel had to try. This was _not _a conversation she was equipped to deal with, nor wanted.

"Yes." Nodding, Rachel blinked against the brightness of the sun, trying not to give away to Quinn just how uncomfortable she was. "I still have to clean up the basement, then start on homework, and then, finally, practice my vocal exercises for two hours. As it is already about two in the afternoon, I don't have much time to spare. So you see. Perhaps we can talk Monday."

"Not going to happen," Quinn disagreed pointedly. "See, the _thing_ is," she took a step forward, parroting Rachel's words back at her, "_Man Hands_, you and I have to talk _today_. Now. And since Sam is still _here_…" She indicated his car with her head, her expression colder than before, "I have some things I need to say to _him_, too."

It was pointless to try lying. Rachel drew herself up straight. "Quinn. Remember, this is _my _household. It is up to _me _if you come in or not. And even if I _were _to let you in, frankly, I don't think you'd enjoy it. Santana is still here, too."

Quinn flinched at Santana's name, like she had been physically slapped. "Wow," she laughed humorlessly, "You are such a _slut_, aren't you?"

"_Excuse _me?" It was Rachel's turn to flinch. Tears instantly welled up in her eyes. She'd _never _been addressed as such before, the hurt shock making it hard to figure out how to react.

Unfortunately, her reaction gave Quinn all she needed to know to get in behind what was left of Rachel's defenses. "Wow," she repeated. A cruel smirk cut a sharp line across the blonde's face, and, like Santana had done not five minutes before, she focused all of her rage on Rachel, "After all this time of you acting so disgustingly high and mighty of being a _true_, _pure _virgin, waiting for the _right time_, you get drunk and roll over for not just the _first _person, but the first _two _people to come along. How does it feel to be a hypocritical whore, _Rachel_? What? Been going at it all afternoon, _too_?"

Rachel's mouth dropped open. "Quinn," she snapped back, voice betraying her emotions by wavering, "I can understand that you are angry at, what it looks like in your eyes, was a slap in your face, but, _Quinn Fabray_." Voice rising, she took a step forward to force Quinn backwards, "This is absolutely _none _of your business. Sam is _not _your boyfriend anymore, thus he did not cheat on you. You have _no _standing to come to _my _house, _accuse _me of something that did _not _happen, and get to _judge _me when you have experienced your _own _drunken… _Tomfoolery_.

"_Now_," she glared at Quinn, snapping her hand out to point back towards the sidewalk, "I want you to leave."

Glaring back at her, an ugly look on her face, Quinn's lips curled into an outraged sneer. Screeching, much like the time she and Santana had gotten into a fight in the hallway of WMHS, the taller girl grabbed Rachel's upper arms. "What_ is_ it _about_ you? Taking my boyfriends from me, going after what's _mine_. First Finn, then _Sam_ – why are you trying to _ruin my **life**_?"

"Ruin your _life_?" Rachel gasped disbelievingly, trying to struggle from Quinn's grip before she ended up vomiting from the harsh back and forth of the blonde's shaking, "I had _nothing_ to do with Sam! He's dating _Santana_, not _me_."

Quinn stopped shaking her, but kept her fingers like iron bands around Rachel's arms. She sucked in a deep breath, gritting out, "God, RuPaul! Santana doesn't _count_. She's a slut, and she's always _been _a slut. She and Sam would _never_ have lasted, because she'd move on to someone else who suits her needs more. But _you_. Couldn't be satisfied with just stealing Finn from me, _ohh no_." She shook her head, hazel eyes boring into Rachel, voice burning with dripping scorn. "No. The second he leaves you, you just _need _to move onto the next, after Puck wouldn't have you. And Santana. _Really_? Going for a _record_, there?"

Rachel's tears finally overflowed. "Quinn, let me go," she closed her eyes, whispering.

Another humorless laugh left Quinn's lips, but she dropped her hands. "Look at you. You're not even denying it."

"Quinn. Step away."

But Quinn was still riding high on her roll, changing tactics once again. "You know, Rachel," she put a mocking lilt into her voice, "I thought you were _better_ than this."

The slap that whipped Quinn's head back sounded like a gun shot. Afraid for a second that _she _had been the one to let her anger get the best of her, Rachel's heart skipped a beat when she realized a vibrating with rage Santana had stepped between her and Quinn.

"…Oh." A hand pressed lightly to her cheek, Quinn slowly righted herself. Though a couple of tears had streaked down her face, she looked, if possible, more dangerous than before.

"Give me _one_ good reason, Fabray. I've heard enough. Nice to know about how you _really _feel about me. So I'm telling you. Give me one good reason why I shouldn't go postal on your ass, _right here_, _right now_." Santana's voice was deathly serious, her eyes almost completely black with barely contained fury. She raised her chin, for all intents and purposes giving off the aura of a coiled serpent, ready to strike, "Because, you know, I can't think of any _good _reasons."

A smug smirk crossed Quinn's face. She arched an imperial eyebrow, taking a step forward to come chest to chest with Santana. "Oh," she smiled in a highly calculated way, "And I'm not supposed to enjoy what you have to deliver, right?"

Santana's eyes narrowed at the theft of her insult. "I can assure you you won't."

"Really? I believe _I _was the one who kicked _your_ ass last time."

"Big words. But _sorry_, blondie. This time, Mr. Schuester's _not here_. To, you know, _save your ass_."

Rachel couldn't look away, the crackling energy flowing between the two girls standing on her porch pouring off of them in waves. She took an instinctive step backwards. Bumping into the doorknob of her front door, she wrapped a trembling hand around it.

The second she did so, whatever had been holding Quinn and Santana back broke. Yelling, they lunged at each other, hands going for whatever they could reach, grappling and digging into handy fabric. Swinging the both of them around, Quinn pushed Santana backwards, the brunette pulling Quinn with her as she tumbled off of the porch. Landing with an undignified grunt, Quinn managed to come out on top, straddling Santana's waist. Wrapping her hand in a good chunk of Santana's hair, she ignored the nails scrabbling at her arm. "This is for _stealing_ _my_ _boyfriend_," she snarled, repaying Santana's slap.

Screaming in rage, Santana barely took time to recover, bucking up violently enough to dislodge Quinn's seat. When Quinn tried to scramble up from the ground, Santana growled out a hoarse, "Fuck no," surging forward to yank the blonde's legs out from under her. Crashing to the ground, Quinn tried to kick Santana off of her, but the brunette held on. "Who's taking liberties _now_?" Santana grunted, eyes sparking as she suffered a wild punch to the side of her head, "You'd already _lost_ him by parking yourself on Finn's mouth. _Really_, with that kissing booth, there's no _wonder_ you contracted Mono. You should have probably invested in some preventive contraception, huh, Baby Momma?"

"That was _you_?" Quinn screeched in outrage, eyes wild, "I was sick for _weeks_. I even got _bed sores_." Redoubling her efforts to get free from Santana's grip, she took an opening, clamping her teeth into the fleshy part of Santana's hand.

Rachel didn't want to see any more.

Yanking the doorknob as hard as she could and barely waiting for the door to open, Rachel barreled inside. "Sam!" she shouted, running into him halfway between the front door and the dining room. Barely able to stop themselves before they crashed into each other, Sam reached out to steady her. "Rache – " he started, but Rachel shook her head and grabbed his wrist. "Quinn – Santana – " she gasped out, "Outside! Can't stop them alone!"

His eyes widening, Sam swore, easily passing Rachel. Before he reached the front door, Rachel managed to call out, "Get Quinn!"

"Right," he hollered back, launching himself off of the porch. A step behind him, Rachel watched as he took a deep breath and waded in. Waiting until Quinn was on top, he wrapped his arms around her waist and yanked her back and up in a spinning motion. Snarling and spitting, she struggled in his grasp, shouting as many insults as she could.

Yelling as many back at her, mostly in Spanish, Santana was about to take her chances jumping _both _Sam and Quinn to get at her when Rachel reached her. Closing her eyes and praying she wouldn't get hurt, Rachel locked her arms around Santana's waist, pressing her front to her back.

Having never been part of the _holding back _Santana, but been part of the cowering in fear and screaming as others held Santana back _from her_ instead, Rachel had no idea of how much force would be needed. So she held on, dug her heels into the grass, and _pulled _as hard as she could backwards. With the side of her head pressed into Santana's shoulder blade, she could hear the pounding of her heart and the breath whooshing in and out of her lungs, her arms and front able to feel the shifting of her muscles. Feeling lightheaded from everything that had happened that day, from all the stress and raging emotions, she concentrated on ignoring what being so close to Santana in current circumstances had the potential to do to her; filtering out all sounds of Santana as best she could, she couldn't help but be curious as to what was going on opposite them.

"You! You!" Quinn was screeching again, this time aimed at Sam, "You not only take it up with the slut, but with the _thing _as well? How could you sleep with _her_? With someone so mannish and – and obnoxious and irritating and nowhere near as popular as _I _am? How is she _worth_ that? _Worth_ s_leeping with_? And how is that _not _cheating, _Sam_? Isn't _Santana_ your girlfriend? What's Rachel? Your whore? Your slut? Your, your…" The blonde suddenly burst into tears, sinking to the ground and making Sam follow her, "How could you leave me for _her_?"

Chest heaving and panting raggedly, seemingly fighting against Rachel's grip just because of obligation now, Santana yelled out, "What the _hell _is up your _butt_, _Q_? _God_, it's like you have a fuckin' crush on Berry! And let me tell you – it's gettin' _more_ than a little creepy."

Using Santana as a barrier to hide behind, Rachel stared at the ground incredulously. Everything had to be a bad dream. That was it. _What_ was happening?

"I have to agree with Santana here," Sam's voice cut through his ex-girlfriend's tears. Slightly out of breath, voice mild but truthful, he continued. "It's creepy. And no. I didn't break up with you because of Rachel. I didn't even break up with you because of Santana."

"You didn't?" Santana blurted, straightening and lifting her head. She crossed her arms, body relaxing in Rachel's embrace.

With the other girl not fighting anymore, Rachel straightened as well, peering over her shoulder. She knew she probably shouldn't be there for this conversation, but it was too late now: she was too curious, and she didn't trust Santana not to suddenly snap forward and charge out of nowhere. She was known to do that.

Sam, hand resting awkwardly on a very disheveled Quinn's shoulder as he knelt behind her, shook his head. Giving Santana a lopsided, slightly sad smile, he nodded at Rachel. Blushing furiously at having been caught, she couldn't help but think it was like he was giving her permission to be there. Relaxing a little, she rested more weight on Santana's back.

"No. You're hot, Santana. Nobody can deny that. And I _do _like you," Sam shrugged, smiling faintly, "Even if you still insist on insulting me every three minutes. Actually, to be honest, it can be kinda hot sometimes."

Quinn shifted, glaring down at the ground. "I _don't _need to hear this," she snapped tightly.

Sam's jaw flexed. "Really? Just like _I _didn't need to hear about _you and Finn _sneaking around behind my back? You his official girlfriend yet? Or are _you _the slut?"

"_What_?" Gasping it out before she could stop it, Rachel dropped her arms from Santana's waist, taking a step back. She'd heard Santana and Quinn yelling about Finn earlier, but she'd managed not to automatically believe it, wanting it to be just nothing. But hearing it from Sam, as a fact…

Heart throbbing painfully in her chest, tears started to build in her eyes. Quinn and Finn _were_…?

_Why_? _How_? **_When_**?

But more importantly, how could Finn _do _that to her?

Her face crumpled, and unable to _be_ there anymore, deciding it really _wasn't _any of her business after all, she whirled around. Walking quickly and jerkily, feeling wooden, Rachel didn't stop until she reached her bed. Ignoring what had happened on it the night before, she buried her face into her pillow, letting her sobs pour forth.

It was like her heart was breaking all over again.


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: **I _finally_ managed to finish this darn chapter. Blar. Also, not a lot of Sam in this chapter, but there will be more of him soon.

* * *

><p>She'd already run through one and a half boxes of Kleenex and was in the middle of singing Adele's <em>Take It All<em> to her red-eyed, miserable reflection in the mirror when Kurt came barreling into her room. Flinching, she didn't have time to get out a shocked, "Kurt?" before he came to a stop in front of her.

"_Rachel Berry_," he gasped, dropping down to sit next to her, "How dare you keep me in anxious limbo, worrying that Santana had snapped and killed you? And then, when I finally decided that moping around my house, video chatting with Mercedes wasn't doing enough to assuage this panic, I arrive over here to find a battle-worn Quinn parked on your front porch while an equally thrashed Santana is furiously making out with Sam on your living room couch, and you up here, bawling your eyes out. What _happened_?"

"They're still here?" was all she could muster. Quinn on her front porch. Sam and Santana making out on her couch. She didn't know which one bothered her the most. "And… Anxious limbo?"

"The forty-thousand texts I've been _sending_ you, of course!" Kurt pulled out his phone, opening up his outbox to show her, "But that's secondary now. It's obvious too much drama has been going on for you to even _think _about figuring out where it was you left your phone while outrageously drunk."

Rachel averted her eyes, unable to stop another wave of crying past her defenses. Crushing her Kleenex against her eyes, she leaned far enough towards Kurt that she upset her natural sense of balance and fell into his shoulder.

"Miss Rachel Berry!" he gasped in shock, hands coming up immediately to push her a couple of inches away from him, "I may be gayer than Blaine currently thinks he is, but I'm _not_ going to kiss you like many a fine gay has done to many a fine fag hag when she's upset."

Though his tone was lofty, his expression was sufficiently concerned, and Rachel nodded, righting herself. "Sorry," she cleared her throat, dabbing at her eyes, "I'm j-just overcome."

"Well, _I'd _say." Crossing his arms, Kurt looked at her expectantly, then rolled his eyes and grabbed the Kleenex box, thrusting it at her when the one she had expired, "You totally got it on with Eight Pack Ken and Saucy Latina Barbie last night! And, by the looks of it, _they stayed all night_." He practically clapped in glee. "Alert the presses: when you get adventurous, Rachel, you do it in _style_. And good taste. Tell me, Sam's _not _a natural blond, is he? Oh oh, I'm sure he isn't."

But Rachel wasn't listening to him anymore. "Kurt," she interrupted, tears building in her eyes again, "Please, don't tease me about this. Can't you see I'm _crying_?"

Kurt blinked. Pulling his head back, he stared at her. "Well, yes, but…" His eyes softened. "Oh, I'm sorry. Okay." He drew in a deep breath and shuffled his shoulders, "I'm concentrated. What's wrong?"

Sniffing, Rachel shook her head. "Can I just say _everything _and be done with it?"

"_No_. The Ice Queen is parked on your porch, and Santana seems like she's trying to reinforce her heterosexuality by swallowing Sam's _tonsils_." Kurt sighed, shifting over to gently pat her knee before taking his palm back to lean on it, "But you're up here. I'm taking it Quinn attacked you?"

Rachel snorted, shaking her head. "She tried, but Santana stepped in. Hence their disheveled states." She still couldn't believe it.

"Hold up." Kurt stared at her. "Santana – _Satan _Santana – got into a fight over _you_?" His voice rose to an incredibly girlish excited tone at the end of his question, "Over Sam or herself, I would have expected, but _you_? I mean, I wouldn't have thought she…" He trailed off.

Even though she understood his shock, it still wounded Rachel's ego. "Maybe I inspire a sense of chivalry?" she sniffed haughtily, more tears spilling forth as her attitude completely disappeared the second it appeared; her voice turned quiet and rough, mirroring the twisting in her stomach, "Okay, no, Quinn in-insulted her."

"Mmhm. I'm sure that's all it was."

"What?"

"Never mind." Kurt waved her question off, "Now's not the time nor place. Rachel." He gave her a compassionate look, pulling a Kleenex out of the box for himself and started cleaning up her tears, "Why are you up here?"

Rachel bit her lip, lowering her chin and shoulders. "…Finn."

"He showed up here, _too_?" Kurt gasped, pausing with his Kleenex pressed directly into Rachel's eye.

"Kurt!"

"Right, right. Sorry." Continuing his ministrations, Kurt gently finished dabbing her eyes.

The affection of his actions helped calm Rachel's anxiety, and she gave him a small smile and equally small, "Thanks," then drew in a deep breath. "No. He didn't – hasn't come over."

Kurt shrugged. "Can't help thinking that's a good thing…"

Rachel agreed, though she didn't want to. Quinn was one thing, but Finn… "I don't care," she whispered harshly, curling her hands into fists on her thighs, trying to tell herself she meant what she was saying, "But you can't be mad at _me _for your highly hypocritical conduct with _Quinn_!"

A low, 'ahh' left Kurt's body, and Rachel looked at him again. His eyes were apologetic. "Because I know you were not talking to me, I take it you've learned about the recoupling of Fuinn?"

Pain burned hot and jagged in Rachel's heart. "So it's true…" she whispered. Idiot as she was, she'd still been hoping it wasn't. More tears threatened, but she clamped her eyes shut.

No. No more tears. Santana and Sam were still here. _Quinn_ was still here. She couldn't stay tucked up away when none of this, directly, had to do with her. Finn's decision to chea – to _engage_ in a relationship that was all manners of wrong was _his _choice. Even if, for the life of her, she couldn't understand why.

She just… She just didn't _understand_. Not about Finn and Quinn. Not about Santana or Sam. Not about last night and all of the conflicting feelings rushing through her body. Everything was messed up, and everything needed to be cleaned.

…The _house_.

"Kurt!" Rachel exclaimed, standing up and defiantly dashing the last of her tears away.

Kurt's eyes widened, "What?"

"You're going to help clean the basement."

It wasn't a question, and Rachel knew Kurt knew it too.

* * *

><p>"Up!" Rachel barked, storming into the living room. Watching the jumble of limbs that were Sam and Santana jerk apart, she leveled cool stares onto each teenager. Preventing herself from feeling anything other than determination, she waited until two sets of eyes looked at her to toss two garbage bags at the floor near the couch. "If you're not in the basement helping Kurt and me clean in the next two minutes, then I will sing <em>only<em> Barbra songs for the next two weeks." Using her idol as blackmail fodder didn't sit well with her, but she knew it was something _Santana_, especially, would hate.

"Fuck no!" Santana snapped, and Rachel arched an eyebrow at her.

"Do you want to try me?" she hmmed.

As they glared at each other, Rachel forced herself to ignore how utterly 'macked' Santana looked, a blush still rising on her face as a sick mixture of what uncomfortably felt like jealousy and arousal flickered into life in her belly. Eyes flicking back to take in the same level of mussed countenance on Sam's face, Rachel focused on Santana again. "_Two _Barbra songs per day," she lowered her voice.

At that, Sam sighed and pulled himself out from under Santana. "Dude," he muttered, shaking his head, "One I can handle. Two?" He stretched and pulled down on his shirt, wiping a hand over his face before bending to pick up a bag; he looked at Rachel, his lips twitching, "You're harsh."

Rachel averted her gaze from the stain of lipstick at the side of his mouth, waiting until he'd exited the room to ask pointedly, "Do you want three per day?"

Santana snorted. Leaning back on the couch, turning so she could cross her legs and prop her elbows on the back of the couch unconcernedly, she challenged, "Schuester wouldn't go for it."

"Really? I wouldn't be so sure of that." Santana's lipstick was almost completely gone, her hair wilder than it had been when she had woken up, and various nicks and mars dotted her skin, but Rachel couldn't tell if everything messy about her was due to Sam or Quinn. Either way made her stomach unsettled.

Santana raised her chin. She studied Rachel. When she spoke, her voice was even, "You're not crying anymore."

Averting her eyes, Rachel frowned. "I'm not," she allowed, "But why do you care?"

Santana shrugged. "I don't." A fingernail tapped on the fabric of the couch, and she tilted her head, "You didn't know?"

…This was not what Rachel wanted to talk about. She swallowed, raising a hand to push hair behind her ear. "No." The word came out short and hard.

"Oh for the love _of_ – After sacrificing my lips to _prove_ – " Rolling her eyes violently, Santana shifted and slapped her hand down onto a nearby cushion. "Sit."

Rachel jerked.

"_Sit_."

Her heart rate picking up, Rachel gingerly shuffled forward and slowly lowered herself onto the couch, the farthest she could get from the other girl. "What is it?" she asked brusquely. Something told her she really didn't want this conversation.

An inscrutable expression took over Santana's face, and she held up three fingers. "One," she pursed her lips, "Can you see over that giant beak of yours?"

That was not amusing. "Yes," Rachel ground out.

A hint of a smirk lit Santana's lips. "Two, you have a brain, or does that giant mouth of lead all the way up to your brain cavity?"

Still not amusing. Gritting her teeth, Rachel nodded.

"Three, _of course you fucking knew_!"

Flinching from the hissed barb, Rachel opened her mouth.

"Uh uh, no. When I's be speaking, _I's _be speaking." Slashing her hand through the air, Santana quickly turned it into a finger pointing directly at her. "Berry, cut the bullcrap. You knew."

"I did not!"

"_Yes you did_."

Anger roiled in Rachel's stomach. "_I did **not**_!"

And then Santana's mouth was on hers, harsh fingers digging into her collar as Santana's body loomed over her, knees pressing roughly into her thigh. "You did," she grunted when she pulled her mouth away, accusing directly into her lips, "But you want to be so damn _dramatic _– the _victim_. That's where you're best, isn't it? Woe is me and so _damn_ _high_ _and_ _mighty_."

When Santana kissed her again, her mouth tasted like anger and last night, and when Rachel pushed back, arching up into her, she didn't think she wanted to know where the anger was coming from… Or why she wasn't pulling away. Defending herself.

Because what Santana said couldn't be true, could it? Rachel hadn't known. She _hadn't_.

…

She hadn't _wanted _to know.

The tears came again, then, and as Rachel started to cry, Santana slowed down. Her grip eased on Rachel's collar. "You knew," she pressed into Rachel's lips, shivering when Rachel's arms snaked around her neck and pulled her clumsily closer.

Rachel nodded. "I knew," she whispered, barely louder than a breath of air.

"Good." And Santana's voice was suddenly back to normal, and she pushed Rachel back, sliding off of the couch and giving her an unforgiving sneer, "Then stop acting like a complete pussy."

As she stalked out of the room, snatching up the garbage bag on her way, Rachel stared after her. If she hadn't seen the flickering in Santana's eyes in the moment before the sneer had snapped into place, Rachel would have burst into tears all over again. Instead, she put a trembling hand down onto the couch to hold herself up, raising her other hand to her lips.

What… What did Santana _want_ from her?


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N: **The promised Sam. *grins* Also, a belated birthday present for ellowyntinuviel, woo!

* * *

><p>"Hey."<p>

Looking up to see Sam leaning against the doorframe, Rachel blushed, pushing herself into a more conventional sitting position. Running one hand over her hair as the other rubbed at her eyes and giving him a fleeting smile, she had to look away. She had, after all, just been kissing his girlfriend.

As that thought passed her brain, she deflated even more. What was she doing? She felt guilty and still on edge and sick and convinced that the person she'd been in the past twenty four hours wasn't the type of person she wanted to be. She could barely recognize herself.

Sam detached from the door, walking over to take a seat on the other side of the couch. He sighed, leaning forward with his elbows on his thighs, lacing his hands together, then turned his head, looking at her from under bangs that fell over the top of his eyes, "Nga nìltsan?"

Rachel blinked at him, trying to fight the urge to shift herself even farther away. He couldn't tell she'd just… _Fraternized _with Santana, right? "What?"

"Nga nìltsan?" Sam repeated, smiling one of his lopsided smiles that made him both boyish and handsome, and Rachel got a flashback to the night before that immediately made her breath hitch, "It's 'Are you well?' in Na'vi."

"Oh." Tempted to ask, 'How do you say no I'm tired and guilty and ashamed and still feel like my heart's been ripped out?' she didn't have a chance to get anything out because Sam was talking again.

"Sorry," he frowned, "That's a stupid question." Letting air out of his mouth, he sat back. "So."

This was awkward. To be completely honest, Rachel had always found Sam very attractive. Even when he had first joined glee and looked like a boy band member, and even when he had his Justin Bieber phase. But Rachel had been so focused on Finn and Sam had been with Quinn for the longest time that she hadn't even bothered to _really_ look at him aside from the purely natural ogling of his abs and arms whenever they were on display. Sam was eye candy. Sweet, earnest dyslexic eye candy.

Sweet, earnest dyslexic eye candy she'd gotten her hands and mouth and other, more intimate parts of her body on. And from what she could remember, he'd been _amazing_. His body, his words, the way he had _looked _at her… Combined with Santana's obvious appreciation, it was Sam's eyes that had made it possible for Rachel to fight off only the most token of mental objections. Because Rachel had wanted him. Him and Santana.

Their mouths and bodies and attention and arms and hands and chests and smiles and kisses and compliments and desires and arousals and affection Finn had been denying her for _so long_…

"You know, you have some of Santana's lipstick on your mouth."

"_What_?" Snapping her head around, Rachel gave Sam a stricken look, her hand coming up immediately to cover her mouth. Oh no. She was a strumpet. That's what she was. She was a strumpet and Sam would get angry at her for not stopping something that should only have stayed within the confines of last night. Instant denials bubbled up. "I-it's not what you think."

Sam's eyebrow rose, and he gave her a 'really?' expression. "I'd think by now I'd know the signs of my girlfriend kissing someone else," he drawled self debasingly, "As that seems to be a personality quirk I apparently look for."

Rachel's stomach squeezed. This was exactly what she hadn't wanted happening. She didn't want to be the reason _anybody_ broke up. After last year… She bit her lip, the corners of her lips turning down as her voice lowered. "I… I'm sorry." She looked down, dropping her hand. It would be pointless to try to get the lipstick off if she didn't know where it was, and it would look ridiculous if she sat there, rubbing her hand all over, anyway. Hopefully it was on the side of her mouth facing _away_ from him…

Flopping back, splaying out on the back and cushion, Sam's green eyes met Rachel's again. Though the space between his eyebrows was a little tight, he still managed somewhat of a smile, "I'm not mad at you." He looked ahead, lolling his head back, "You know, I'm not even sure I'm mad at her…?" He glanced back at her.

In lieu of a real response, Rachel nodded. She didn't know what else to do. She could expect insults from Santana (or perhaps what seemed to be more likely lately, random kissing), but Sam she was still figuring out. After all, he wasn't just an average teenage male. A sweet, dyslexic earnest eye candy of a teenage male…

_No_. Rachel was more than her hormones.

Sam's hands curled into loose fists on his thighs. Her gaze following the motion, Rachel skittered away from the automatic glance at his crotch. Though she didn't know what _exactly _was hidden under those jeans, she had a pretty good from-first-hand-clothed-contact idea. Her breath hitched again. Would she never be able to _forget_ that? Never be able to look at Sam or Santana ever again without remembering what they had done the evening before? Or would she forever see their abs and chests and almost-nude bodies? It was worse than what she saw when she looked at Finn.

Which apparently was what Quinn got to see now.

"Fact is," Sam interrupted her thoughts, "Last night happened."

Rachel affected a neutral expression, pushing her hair behind her ear. She didn't want this conversation either, but it was happening, so she'd be as mature as she could. No matter the thundering of her heart and the blush threatening to take over her face. "It did."

"Right." Sounding forcefully assured, Sam shifted so he leant more of his weight on his right arm, facing her more directly; Rachel unconsciously mirrored him, and her knee brushed his. They both jerked, gazes dropping to where they touched, then stared at each other before looking away again.

"Right," Sam repeated, his voice deeper than before, and Rachel had to curl her own hands into fists in her lap, "And I'm not stupid. This'll uhm, this'll change things. _Already _has changed things." He paused, then gave her another small smile, "We're definitely gonna have to figure out how to deal with when we go back to school and glee, huh?"

That made Rachel laugh, even if it wasn't really funny. Giving Sam an answering smile, she licked her lips and dropped her shoulders. "I'm really sorry you're going to have to deal with my unpopularity."

"What?" Sitting up, Sam frowned at her.

"My unpopularity," Rachel nodded, stating factually, "You and Santana are part of the 'in crowd' of William McKinley High, and I am not, and that still _does _affect glee, no matter how Mr. Schuester would like to think otherwise. I only hope that using the tactic of 'blaming it on the alcohol' shall make it easier for you two to not have to deal with any negative backlash – "

"Whoah, whoah, whoah!" Sam gawked at her, leaning even closer, "Rachel!"

She flinched back, "Yes?" She was _not _expecting that reaction.

Sam shook his head, pushing his bangs back from his forehead. An unreadable expression crossed his face as he narrowed his eyes at her. Finally, "I may do some incredibly _guy_ things, but I do _not _agree with guys treating girls like _nothing_ after 'tapping that ass'."

Rachel could scarcely understand what he was saying. "And that means…?" she asked.

"Hell if I should know!" Sam threw his hands up, "Which is why we're talking about it." His expression softening, he smiled at her again. "Look, this thing with Santana's really new. And before that was Quinn, who we all know," he rolled his eyes, "Is the perfect example of a loving girlfriend. So I may have only had two girlfriends, but I _have _learned one thing about myself."

There was something in his eyes that sped Rachel's heart up again. "Yes?"

"That I can't _do_ anything with girls I don't have _some _sort of feelings for."

Rachel's mouth went dry. "But… You have a girlfriend."

Sam shrugged, one corner of his lips turning up. "That didn't stop her." Putting his hand down onto the cushion in between them, Sam put his weight on it, starting to lean forward.

What? Telling herself to lean backwards, Rachel's body didn't listen to her, and she quickly found her body weight shifting in Sam's direction. The boy's eyes were so dark and he had such an intense look on his face, reminiscent of how Santana had looked not even an hour earlier. This wasn't happening, was it?

She should be protesting. Stopping this. But… It was true that Sam's girlfriend had kissed her again. So, would this be like helping their relationship by making it equal? No, even she couldn't justify that excuse.

Rachel found the strength to put her hand up, pushing against Sam's sternum. "Wait," she whispered, looking up at him, "What are you doing?"

Sam lifted his own hand, reaching forward to curl his fingers around her shoulder. Both his hand and chest were warm, and Rachel shivered; somewhere, in the back of her head, she was relieved to realize that she was _seriously _attracted to Sam, that it hadn't _just_ been the alcohol. Sam smiled, his other hand coming up to wrap around her wrist, pulling her hand down, then skimming his palm along her arm to reach her other shoulder and then down, stopping at her waist. "I gotta see something," he grunted, then tugged her forward.

Letting out a breathy noise, Rachel fell against Sam's chest, her upper thighs and hips landing partly on his lap, and he pulled her head up, kissing her with lips that were as demanding and searching as Santana's had been. He was dominant and coaxing, his arms moving around her back to hold her waist and chest against him, and the familiar feeling of excitement quickly rose up in her body again. As his tongue dipped into her mouth, she melted into the kiss.

Sam's lips were strong and soft, the barest hint of scruff from his cheeks and upper lip making her stomach flip. Sliding her fingers into his hair, Rachel grabbed onto his shoulder to pull herself into a better position, getting a better seat on his lap, making a sound in the back of her throat when Sam helped by pulling her legs over his, his hand lingering on the back of her thigh. More and more memories of the night before were flashing through her mind, and she trembled, getting a thrill at each heavy breath coming from Sam's mouth, his body solid and warm under her.

Why were Sam and Santana's bodies so _easy _for her to respond to? Was it _just _the memories that helped? Or had she… Sam's fingers slid up and down her waist, his head dipping down to start tracing his tongue along her jaw, and she moaned, crushing his head against her… Or had she… Rachel pulled Sam's mouth back to hers… What was she thinking about?

A loud cough interrupted them. Snapping her head back, Rachel craned her head around to see Kurt standing in front of them, hands on his hips. "Kurt!" she exclaimed, sliding off Sam and the couch altogether, Sam's arms easily dropping from her body, and pulling at her clothing to straighten them, "I, erm…"

"She, uh, had some lipstick on her face," Sam stood up as well, scratching the back of his head.

"Mmhm. And you were just getting it off with your tongue." Looking incredibly unconvinced, Kurt crossed his arms. "Really? That's the excuse you're going with? That's as bad as Quinn and Finn's 'saving her life' bit." When Sam scowled, he rolled his eyes and waved his hand, "No, no, no Bieber fits. We don't have time for that. Santana's found Quinn again."


End file.
